


Death by Magenta

by Kuroeia (Empatheia)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-04
Updated: 2007-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strip poker with old people is always a terrible idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death by Magenta

The moral of this story is this: don't play strip poker with Ryuuzaki Sumire. Ever.

**x**

"Absolutely not," Hanamura said firmly, being wiser than her pompous demeanor suggested. "Not a chance."

Ryuuzaki Sumire smiled into the handset of the phone, and though Hanamura couldn't possibly see the smile, she had a talent for making it audible. "I'm inviting a few other people."

"Good luck."

"...Including Sakaki."

The silence on the other end was deafening, and Ryuuzaki suppressed the urge to chuckle out loud. Really, young people were so easy to manipulate.

There was no graceful way for Hanamura to admit defeat. "Fine. I'll be there." _Click._

Ryuuzaki _did_ chuckle then as she set the receiver down. _One down, two to go_.

**x**

"Absolutely not."

"Hanamura's already agreed to come," Ryuuzaki said calmly, running her fingers through her ponytail. "Are you afraid of losing to a woman?"

Deafening silence.

"...Fine. I'll be there."

Sakaki, if possible, was even easier than Hanamura. And the last phone call wouldn't be an argument, so she leaned back and smiled broadly. The stage was practically set.

**x**

"I'm holding a little strip—"

"Coming."

"I thought you might. Sunday at six. You know the address."

**x**

Tennis coaches were always so punctual, she mused as Sakaki and Hanamura showed up simultaneously, glaring sulkily at each other and pointedly not speaking.

Except for Ojii, but Ojii was Ojii so that was to be expected. He was twenty minutes late, by which point Ryuuzaki had managed to get a cup and half of sake into both Hanamura and Sakaki, relaxing them considerably.

"This is a terrible idea," Hanamura said to him, and he nodded gravely.

But both of them knew it was far too late to back out now. If they did, Ryuuzaki would make a point of telling every single one of their students first what their coaches had almost taken part in, then put emphasis on how cowardly they were for backing out. Not really logical, but compelling nonetheless.

Ryuuzaki brought out the cards and the chips and sat down at the free side of the low table with a devious grin. Time to have some fun.

**x**

"No. I refuse."

"Sakaki-sensei, that's against the rules," Ryuuzaki chided gleefully. "You lost the hand. Off with it."

Sakaki's face was a mask of blank horror, but he crumpled and neatly unbuttoned his shirt to let it fall to the floor around his hips.

Hanamura licked her lips.

**x**

Ojii smiled enigmatically.

"Please, no," Hanamura whispered under her breath.

Ryuuzaki bit her lip to keep from laughing. Ojii hadn't needed to lose that hand. He'd done it on purpose, because Ojii was Ojii. The pants went flying with a dramatic flair, and mentally scarring smiley-face drawers were bared to eyes that had never wanted to see them.

"I lose!" he crowed triumphantly.

**x**

Fuji Syuusuke would probably kill to have his camera in there at the moment, Ryuuzaki mused. Four prominent tennis coaches, sitting around a table decidedly drunk and missing most of their clothing… it was the blackmail scoop of the century. Except for Ryuuzaki of course, because it was her birthday and she was pulling rank. Besides, she'd hardly lost a hand anyway. Her hair was down, her scrunchy having been first to go, and her jacket was neatly folded next to her, but other than that she was still fully dressed.

Hanamura, on the other hand, had only a few rather pathetic scraps of red lacy material that might pass as undergarments in Europe or America, but covered basically nothing.

Sakaki barely seemed to notice his extreme state of undress, being too busy practicing acute peripheral vision while pointedly not looking at Hanamura.

Ojii wore one red wristband and his horrifying drawers, and the latter were in grave danger by the looks of the next hand.

Yes, she thought with a deep sense of satisfaction, Fuji would weep to know what he was missing.

**x**

"If you breathe a word of this to my students, Sumire, I will see you hang," Sakaki garbled, gloriously sloshed but not quite enough so to be immune to the compromising nature of the situation.

"Oh, I wouldn't," she said gaily, "...probably."

"Oh, Su-mi-re," Ojii slurred, then pointed to the table. "You lose."

Ryuuzaki sniffed. "It's my birthday."

"Oh, come now, you don't want to be a spoilsport, do you?" Hanamura wheedled.

Sakaki nodded, eerily reminiscent of a canine bobble-head, the creepy kind that sit on dashes and stare at the passengers.

Ryuuzaki lowered her head and smiled. "Well, if you really insist. But you take responsibility for the consequences."

The identical looks of confusion were gratifying. She stood, back straight, and tore her green top off in one smooth motion to reveal a magnificent magenta creation in leather, well filled-out by her mature chest. It glinted in the low light and reflected in the awe-stricken — or quite possibly horror-stricken — eyes of Hanamura and Sakaki.

Ojii hemmed and hawed quietly to himself, grinning enigmatically and sizing her up without a trace of shame. "Nothing wrong there," he muttered, and snickered.

"The bottoms match," she informed them gleefully. "Win the next hand and I'll prove it."

Hanamura and Sakaki instantly folded, opting instead to lose their remaining rags. They had not, however, counted on Ojii. He pressed intently forwards, pushing the envelope as far as he could without a hint of worry in his expression. Twin expressions of terror grew gradually on the faces of the younger two.

"I win," he said at last with a tone of deep joy.

Ryuuzaki smiled and stood.

"No!" Hanamura whimpered.

"No?" Ryuuzaki echoed. "Are you sure? You don't know what the alternative is."

"Anything but that," Sakaki picked up.

Her eyes glinted. "Anything?"

They nodded in pathetic unison.

She turned and looked at Ojii. "Mutual victory?"

"Hmf."

"Wonderful. Prepare yourselves, you young whippersnappers!"

"Wha—"

That was about as far as Hanamura got before she had a faceful of Ojii- _derriere_ and found herself flat on the floor.

Sakaki found himself similarly attacked a split second later, but he was too slow to say _anything._

Ryuuzaki and Ojii cackled like a pair of aging twins. "Silver seat, brats."

Their only answer was a series of muffles moans emanating from their shiny new cushions.

"Game, set and match."

**X**

 


End file.
